


Hellshots

by Kita_the_Spaz



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5815093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kita_the_Spaz/pseuds/Kita_the_Spaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short ficlets written to celebrate reaching 1,000 followers on tumblr. I asked for prompts and the first ones who responded nabbed ficlets of their very own. Each chapter is a seperate, self-contained story, with the prompt in the chapter summary. So abandon all hope, ye who enter here, where you might find AU's, sweet fluff, angst, or any number of other things. Welcome to Hellshots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Running

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt- "about the prompts and stuff what about alive au? Sock ran away from home and injured himself really bad in the way, for some reason he ends up in Jon’s house and he has to take care of the weird kid at his doorstep…well thats longer than i thought” offered by the lovely tweek-sowachowski

It was damned cold out. Tugging his robe closer around himself, Jonathan scowled at the bag of trash. _Damn it, mom, it was too cold for this shit._

He’d taken the trash out to the curb last night, trust mom to remember that the trash out of the upstairs bathroom hadn’t been taken out. Grumbling, Jonathan braced himself against the cold and hustled buns toward the black can. He lifted the lid and dropped the bag in. A feeble moan made him look down and Jonathan stumbled backward, landing on his ass on the cold pavement.

Curled up in a small ball against the side of the trash can was a body. No, not a body, he amended, when a second moan faintly reached his ears. Cautiously, Jonathan got to his knees and edged closer. “Dude? Are you okay?”

He didn’t get an answer. It was a teen, Jonathan’s age or younger, hunched around a small duffel bag. Jonathan’s eyes widened as he took in the large blotch of blood staining the side of his coat, going brown around the edges but still bright scarlet in the center. _“Holy—_ hang on!”

Jonathan struggled to his feet, grabbing the other teen’s arm and hoisting it up over his shoulders. He sagged limply against Jonathan.

Gritting his teeth, Jonathan hauled the limp body into the house, dumping him on the couch and going for the first aid kit in the kitchen. He had to stop the bleeding and then he could call emergency services. Swearing under his breath, Jonathan hauled the coat open. So much blood!

Grabbing a packet of gauze, Jonathan ripped it open with one hand and his teeth, using the other to try and find the source of the blood. There, high on one side, a gaping gash right under the other teen’s ribs. Jonathan pressed his fistful of gauze to it, watching as the white fabric was dyed scarlet. Pressing the gauze tighter into the wound, Jonathan grabbed for another strip to bind it into place.

Hopefully he’d slowed the bleeding enough to run and grab his cell phone and get qualified paramedics out here. Putting the thought into action, Jonathan pushed himself to his feet.

A tan hand with bloody knuckles shot out and grabbed his sleeve. Emerald green eyes squinted up at him. “Where ya goin’, hot stuff?”

“I’m calling the paramedics for you, dude. Stay calm. They’ll be here soon to get you to the hospital.”

His words had the opposite effect, the dazed and bleeding teen trying to sit up and clinging tighter to Jonathan’s sleeve. “No!”

“What the hell?” Jonathan backed up, tugging at the fabric held in a death grip. “Let go! You need help, you’re bleeding all over the place!”

The boy shook his head, nearly tipping off the couch in his effort to hold Jonathan. “I’ll be fine! Please, no hospital!”

Jonathan stilled, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

Green eyes darted until they had located his duffle and the teen loosened one hand to reach for it. “”Look, thanks for the help, but I’ll just get out of here now, okay?”

Jonathan stopped the other’s struggles with one hand. “Dude, you’re too weak to even stand, much less run away.”

Panic flashed over rounded features and Jonathan had an epiphany. “You’re a runaway, aren’t you? That’s why you don’t want me calling you an ambulance.”

The teen sagged, all the fight going out of him. “Please…”

Jonathan sighed, looking over the scrawny figure in the too-big coat. “Fuck. I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?” he asked of no one in particular. “Look, you can stay here for a little while. It’s cold as hell out and you’ve already lost a lot of blood. Just till you can get back on your feet, ok? You give me any trouble though, and I won’t hesitate in calling the police.”

A beaming smile brightened the other teen’s face. “Awesome! Thank you. You’re really nice! Oh, what’s your name? Mine is Sock!”

Jonathan was already regretting this. “Jonathan. Why don’t you lose the coat? I need to do a better job of patching you up since you won’t be sensible and be seen by a real doctor. Maybe I can salvage the coat,” Jonathan eyed the ugly stain darkening the fabric. “Though I wouldn’t bet on it.”

Sock grinned and struggled upright, trying to pull the coat off and winding up hopelessly entangled and flapping his arms like a small child.

Trying hard not to laugh at Sock’s antics, Jonathan helped him out of the coat and forced him to lie back on the couch. He busied himself with cleaning the wound and applying butterfly stitches to what looked like a clean cut, despite the way it kept bleeding. “What happened to you?”

Sock winced and bit his bottom lip. _“Oww,”_ he whined. “I was at a bus station, trying to get warm and I went into the bathroom. There was this guy in there and he tried to steal my bag,” Sock glanced at his duffel on the floor. “When I fought him for it, he pulled out a knife and stabbed me. I screamed and kicked him in the goodies. He went down and I ran.”

“Jeeze,” Jonathan muttered, wrapping clean gauze around the wound and taping it down. “He coulda hit something vital. You really should see a doctor.”

Sock shook his head. “I’m fine. And on the bright side, I got to keep the knife!” He happily displayed a triangular blade, the edges still stained with red.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**A/N:** This may or may not have been inspired by the post _“If I get stabbed, do I get to keep the knife?”_ running around tumblr a few weeks ago. I come up with weirdness. 


	2. Playing Catch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written on the prompt _"jon discovers he can distract his pesky demon with a laser pointer. hilarity ensues. (aaaa)"_ submitted by user is-there-pastel-in-hell

Sock was a cat, Jonathan concluded with certainty. That’s all there was to it. He had to have been born a cat in some other life. It wasn’t only his obsession with small, fast moving animals, like squirrels, sparrows or mice, but the fact that he could be distracted by just about anything. It was like watching a kitten with ADHD.

At the moment, Sock was practicing his newfound ability at turning tangible by screwing with the cords for the venetian blinds in the living room window. It was almost amusing watching him try and concentrate enough to tug on the cords, usually only managing to bat the string around uselessly. The noise was getting a little annoying, though, the click and clatter of the plastic cord pull hitting against the blinds and the sill. He could have just put his headphones on, but he didn’t dare to take his attention off of Sock long enough to go dig them out of his bag. Who knew what trouble the affable demon could get into with his new abilities?

Jonathan sighed and leaned back on the sofa, idly digging through the clutter on the side table for the television remote. His hand landed on something small and silver and he picked it up out of curiosity. 

It was a key fob with a small lens on one end and a button on the side. Had it fallen off of his mom’s keys? It didn’t look like much of anything. Jonathan pressed down on the button and a red dot sprang to life on the wall.

Oh… a laser pointer. Jonathan was just about to set it back down when he noticed Sock’s attention was now fixated on the point of light. Curiously, Jonathan moved it a little to the right, watching Sock’s head move to track on it. Smirking, he flicked it rapidly back to the left, Sock’s head whipping around to follow.

This could be amusing.

Jonathan tipped the pointer up until the point was on the ceiling. Sock stared at it, drifting a little higher. One of his hands flexed and curled like he wanted to reach for it.

Jonathan traced a little circle on the ceiling, watching Sock’s head bobble to follow. A quick jerk of his wrist to the right and Sock was off like a racehorse, shooting after the bright spark of light.

Jonathan amended his earlier thought. Sock was a kitten with ADHD, hyped up on four shots of espresso, in his mad pursuit. He said nothing, only making frustrated grunts when he failed to catch the red dot, darting and swooping all over the room in pursuit.

Jonathan found his smile growing and before he realized it, he was laughing aloud at Sock’s antics, making the bright dot jerk wildly with his helpless chuckles. He lost his grip on the pointer and a second later, Sock crashed into him in a full-body tackle.

“Got it!” Sock exulted, a wide grin baring sharp teeth. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on the tip of Jonathan’s nose.

Blinking, Jonathan leaned back. “Dude, how was that getting it?”

Sock pointed at where the laser pointer had fallen in Jonathan’s lap; the tiny red dot focused up… to right where his nose had been.

“Besides,” Sock purred, draping his arms around Jonathan’s neck and dropping into his lap. “It distracted you beautifully so I could do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Sock turned into a sassy little shit, didn’t he? Not what I was planning, but… ~shrugs~ half the time the muses do what THEY want and hell with what I’m intending.


	3. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here’s the next of the ficlets, on the prompt given to me by kuriyalezata of _“Human AU! Sockathan? Anything angsty/fluffy is fine.”_ It wound up a bit longer than intended, but I couldn’t leave it at just the angst. It had to have fluff, too.

It had been four days since Jonathan had seen or heard from Sock.

Four days of wondering where the little shit had gotten to; four days of calls gone to voicemail and unanswered texts that were getting, by turns, increasingly more annoyed and anxious; four days of wondering just what in the hell had prompted the events of five days ago.

It had started on the school bus, a little over a month into the new school year, with Sock flopping down into the seat next to Jonathan with an exaggerated groan. Shifting the headphone nearest him off his ear, Jonathan had eyed his friend. 

Sock was colorful and cheerful and altogether aggravating, and had been Jonathan’s near constant companion since last year when Jonathan had become a freshman at the high school. Sock had been a sophomore and attached himself to the sullen teen from the first moment they met. 

Sock was somewhat less colorful than usual, his clothes almost as subdued as his mood. He was wearing a black band t-shirt about four sizes too big for him, a patterned skirt in muted lavender and gray, and black leggings, all decidedly less colorful than what the exuberant teen wore most days. The only touch of color was the crazy hat that he wore constantly.

“S’up?” Jonathan had greeted, offering a stick of the cotton-candy flavored gum he had taken to carrying around since he had gotten to know Sock’s odd tastes.

Sock had taken the offer but rather than shove the gum in his mouth at once like he would usually do, he fiddled idly with the wrapper, green eyes distant and worried. “It’s... Look, I need some time to work it out in my head,” Sock blurted, chewing on his bottom lip. “Meet me at Top’s Diner after school? I’ll tell you then.”

Jonathan had agreed, a little concerned, and had impatiently slogged his way through classes until the final bell rang. Sock hadn’t shown at lunch or any of the other times between classes when they usually met up for a couple of minutes.

He told himself that he wasn’t in a rush to find out what was wrong, but his feet felt otherwise and he almost jogged the four blocks to the old greasy-spoon diner.

Sock had taken a corner booth, back to the wall and a diet soda in front of him. He seemed more interested in playing with the straw than drinking it. Jonathan slid in opposite. “Got your head together yet?” he asked, by way of greeting.

Sock stared down at his drink, refusing to meet Jonathan’s eyes. “Not entirely,” he murmured, so quietly Jonatha could barely hear him. “I suppose it won't matter, in the long run. I finished testing today, and they’re going to boot me up a grade level. By next week, I’ll be taking senior classes. I’ve already got almost all the credits I’ll need for graduation.”

Jonathan reached out and ruffled the reddish bangs escaping from Sock’s hat. “You go, brainiac. Doesn’t mean you get out of helping me with my Trig homework though.”

Sock shook his head, his forehead brushing Jonathan’s palm. “No, you’re gonna pass Trig if it kills you. It means I’ll be graduating this year, though.”

“Good for you.” Jonathan pulled his hand back and reached for a menu. “Wish I was that smart that I could get out of school a year early.”

Sock had sighed, drooping. “I’ll graduate, and you’ll still have two years to go.”

Jonathan had shrugged, unconcerned. “I’ll muddle through, even without you helping me with my homework.”

Sock made a sound like a teakettle, a sort of cut-off screech. “God, you’re dense! Don’t you get it?” He shoved himself out of the booth, standing over Jonathan with his hands on his narrow hips. 

Jonathan tilted his head back to look into Sock’s narrowed-eyed glare. “Get what?”

Sock’s hands shot out and grabbed Jonathan by the collar. He hauled him in for a bruising kiss, taking advantage of Jonathan’s open-mouthed shock to plunder thoroughly. Wrenching away, he tossed a five on the table and left Jonathan sitting there stunned. “Muddle through _that!”_ were his parting words.

That had been the last time he’d heard from Sock. 

Without knowing what classes he was in, there was almost no way to find him during the school day and he’d not ridden the bus since that day. He’d never been over to Sock’s house, so he had no idea where he lived. Jonathan didn’t know what to think, only that he really needed to talk to him. He needed to understand what was going on under that ridiculous hat, because he really didn’t understand anything else at the moment. The days were weighing heavily on him without Sock around.

He hadn’t questioned his own sexuality before, he’d just been uninterested in dating, preferring to concentrate on his music and his odd friendship. But now he couldn’t stop questioning it; thinking about the heat of Sock’s mouth over his, the pinch of his lower lip caught between Sock’s teeth as he’d pulled away from the kiss. It was driving him nuts.

He tried Sock’s number again, waiting for the single ring and Sock’s chipper voicemail message, one he was getting to know by heart. Instead, he got a half a ring and then a monotone woman’s voice saying, _“We’re sorry, the cellular number you are trying to reach is out of the service area or is no longer in service. Please—”_

Jonathan hung up the phone, heart catching in his chest. Was that it then? Just kiss him like that and then fuck off the planet? What the hell had Sock been thinking?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two agonizing days later, and at his wit’s end, Jonathan prevailed on Lil, a girl in his homeroom and a hacker of no little skill, to hack into the school records and get Sock’s address. He’d taken the bus there, only to find an empty driveway and a locked-up house. Cautiously he’d peered in the window, finding, to his relief that there were signs of inhabitation in pictures on the wall and coats hanging from a coatrack. So where were they?

He trailed listlessly around the back of the house, not even sure what he was looking for. There was an old treehouse in a weathered oak, and Jonathan climbed up the rickety ladder. It too bore signs of recent occupation, in a pile of neatly folder blankets and a scattering of pictures thumbtacked to the walls.

Jonathan took a closer look; most of them were candid shots of him, looking like they’d been snapped at school. One was his class photo, his annoyed eyes narrowed over a fake smile. There was one of him and Sock, taken on the last day of school last year, Sock had slung an arm around his neck and used his cell phone to snap a photo of them. He’d sent a copy to Jonathan, along with an invitation to go to the lake with him to celebrate surviving another year of school. 

They’d hung out a lot over the course of the summer, meeting at the mall or Sock showing up at his house and dragging him off to a movie, after getting his mom to take Jonathan home after that lake trip.

Jonathan sank down to sit on the blankets, the picture in his hand. “What the hell was that?” he asked aloud of Sock’s grinning face. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that after this year, I wouldn’t see you again,” a familiar voice answered tiredly.

Jonathan whirled, to find Sock partially up the ladder, his forearms resting folded on the wooden floor and his chin propped on them. 

“I was thinking,” Sock continued. “That I wanted more. More than friendship, more than only seeing you at school... more time. Time...” he laughed aloud, wryly. “I wanted to give you time to think about it, maybe realize that...” He shook his head. “I’d already sent pre-apps and SAT’s to several colleges. One of them called and offered a tour of their facilities. My parents picked me up from school and dragged me out there without wanting to hear a word otherwise. I wound up giving you more time than I intended.” he snorted. “I lost my cell phone while we were there.”

Jonathan, finally able to move, scrambled across the floor and grabbed Sock’s arms, bodily hauling him the rest of the way into the treehouse. “You idiot,” he growled. “Do you know how much you were driving me out of my mind? You up and kissed me like that and then vanished, you idiot! I was worried about you!”

Sock tilted his head, lifting his hands to cover Jonathan’s on his arms. “Were you?” he asked, brightly interested now.

Jonathan snarled. “Maybe I’m dense,” he spat. “But you’re just as thick!” He yanked Sock close and kissed him with all the pent-up tension of the past week.

Sock melted, and when Jonathan finally let him pull away, he leaned his forehead against Jonathan’s, breath coming in rapid pants. “I’ll only be in school with you for the rest of the year,” he said thickly. “Then...”

Jonathan growled again. “It doesn’t matter. Go away to college. I’ll find you after graduation. You wanted to give me time? You gave me enough to decide that’s it’s pretty damned empty without you.”


	4. Eight Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As requested by kitsunicorn, _Ok so, I was wondering if you could write a fic based off of “Kill All Your Friends” by MCR?_ I’ll be honest, I never listened to MCR, because of a slightly scary fangirl I had to put up with years back who went into excuciating detail about her fantasies about them… that’s enough to put anyone off their music, so congrats, you made me listen to them. I really had no idea what to write going into this, so have some weirdness.

Jonathan stood alone beside the grave, the cold November wind biting through the fabric of his jacket. He shoved his hands down into his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the bitter chill.

“This is weird,” he complained aloud.

There was no answer... not that he expected one anyway, but it made him feel better. He stared down at the simple headstone, a plain slab of granite inscribed with a name and two dates, though the last one was inaccurate. He’d never known when he actually died, so he’d chosen one that... well, was the closest he could come.

It had been the last time he’d seen him anyway, so it was close enough. The sting remained, even with the intervening years stretching long.

Jonathan sat down on the cold ground, folding his legs under him and sighing. “But as weird as it, I can’t seem to let it go. Even without you haunting me, you’re still haunting me, as little sense as that makes.” He reached out and tapped a finger against the granite. “You listening to me? You’d better be.”

The cold wind tickled around his ears and he snorted. “Yeah, I thought so. Do you have any idea of the shit I went through for this? Seriously, dude, it better have been worth it.”

The grave didn’t see fit to answer.

When all one had to go on was a name and a very few details, finding out where someone had come from had been... difficult, to say the least. But Jonathan, driven by his lack of demons, had persevered. He’d found the right town and eventually discovered where the bodies were buried.

He supposed he could add grave robbing to his resume, though it was not something he cared to think too hard about. He’d done what he had to. And now he was here, in front of the grave he’d had the pitiful remains interred in.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “It has to have been worth it.”

Before he’d been saddled with his own personal demon, Jonathan hadn’t held a lot of beliefs, at least not in things he couldn’t see. Sock had changed all that, giving Jonathan the notion that there was really more out there than he’d dreamt. Four years had been more than enough to prove it. 

Four years of having Sock with him every moment, until, one day, he _wasn’t._ Jonathan had woken in the middle of the night to the barely-there brush of lips on his cheek and a soft voice wishing him an agonized farewell. Something had held him hostage in a body that would not move until dawn light had painted the ceiling, and by then, he’d known for certain that Sock was gone... and wasn’t coming back.

And now, four years after that morning, here he was. It had taken him this long to figure things out. Besides, the symmetry appealed to him. Four years with him; four years without... and long enough to figure out a way to get him back.

Jonathan sighed, his breath a curl of white mist in the air. It had taken him a long time to come to this... a long year of hurting like his heart had been cut out before determination had set in and he’d decided there were ways around _anything_ if one put their mind to it hard enough. It had taken every moment of the three remaining years to figure out a way that wouldn’t result in his death, the death of everyone he might have cared for, or a zombie apocalypse, whichever came first. Demonic bargains were not something to mess around with.

Not that it had been much easier to find an angel to strike a deal with either.

Thankfully, he’d found one with a score to settle. The smile that lit her face when he’d proposed the deal had been positively demonic. “So, let me get this right... I help you do this, and you give me the key to making certain... beings... existence into a living hell? So what do you get out of the bargain?”

Jonathan’s smile had matched hers. “Exactly what I need.”

In the end, the bargain had been struck and she’d given him what he needed, and as a bonus, told him just how to work things so that certain backlashes could be avoided. They’d both come away from the deal pleased, and Jonathan more certain that angel’s were, in a way, scarier than demons.

But none of that mattered. All that mattered was he had the way, and now the means, to what he needed. What had kept him going for eight years, four because he was there and four bitter ones finding a way to get him back. He’d done what he needed to survive until now... when he could make things right.

He closed his eyes, a smile making his cold cheeks hurt. He’d set everything up already and all he needed was the final element and a few key words. His hands and voice remained steady.

He finished with a sigh and a smile. “Let it be,” he breathed to the silent air.

“J-Jonathan?” The voice was everything he remembered.

He looked up into a face he’d been needing to see for years. “Long time, no see, Sock.”


	5. Public Spaces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here comes the next, this time for introverted-meme on the prompt of _‘As for the prompt, I’ve never actually sent one in before so forgive me if this is too vague/super lame or something but maybe Jon being embarrassed by Sock flirting/messing with him and not knowing how to react because they’re in public and nobody understands why he’s being so weird because he’s “alone."’_ Jonathan turned out more grumpy than embarrassed, but still a bit flustered.

Jonathan glanced around to make certain he was alone. When he was sure, he turned to glare at his demonic menace. “Knock it off!” he hissed.

Sock, hanging upside down near the buzzing florescent light fixture, blinked down at him. His wide green eyes looked far too innocent, but Jonathan knew better. “Knock what off?”

“You know what!” Jonathan knew that his cheeks were red as hell and if he got any more embarrassed, his ears would start going crimson too.

Sock pursed his lips in a little moue. “No, I really don’t. I may be a demon, but I can’t read your mind.” He flipped over and floated a little lower, folding his hands beneath his chin. “Use your words.”

Jonathan’s temper spiked and he glared at his tormentor. “You fuck with me to make me look crazy, so hopefully I’ll off myself, I got that! But what the hell was with you in chemistry today?”

Sock’s green eyes brightened and his smile widened, full of far too sharp teeth. “Oh, that?” He chuckled, a low roll of sound that did nothing good for Jonathan’s state of mind. “Mmm, well, some of the others have started giving me pointers. Y’know, because I’m new at this. So some of the older demons have been sharing some little tricks with me, just to help me get my job done. It looks like some of them are working.”

Jonathan made a frustrated sound deep in his throat. “That wasn’t a trick! That was... I don’t even know what to call that!”

Sock’s smile grew so wide that it shouldn’t have fit on a human face. “If you really don’t know what to call that, then your education is sorely lacking, Mr. Combs.” His tone was a mockery of Jonathan’s chemistry teacher’s. “I mean, you are a teenager.”

Jonathan’s hands curled into fists and he wanted nothing so much as to sock Sock one right in the nose. Unfortunately, the rules of Sock’s tangibility wouldn’t let him. He drew in a long breath through his nose and let it out slowly between his gritted teeth. “Look, just... don’t even do that again! Especially not where people can see!” 

He turned on a heel and stormed out of the boy’s bathroom, abandoned now that school was out. He’d missed his bus, but at this point, he didn’t care. He’d walk the three blocks down and pick up a city bus that could drop him off closer to his house. He could use the walk to cool off, anyway.

Jonathan jammed his headphones down over his ears and cranked the volume up. Deafness would be preferable to listening to Sock right now.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he stalked out of the school and down past the teacher’s parking area, cutting across the park, and swinging a left on Royal Avenue. He could see Sock floating along behind him out of the corner of his eye, but right now he was a mixture of furious and embarrassed, and he was most definitely _not_ going to fall for Sock’s hangdog expression.

He made it to the bus stop just in time to catch the sixty-three, which would drop him off less than a block from his house, provided he didn’t mind a forty-five minute tour of suburbia. Jonathan climbed aboard and retreated to the raised area in the back of the bus, flopping down in a window seat and propping his feet on the back of the seat in front of him.

Sock sat next to him, but Jonathan was determined to continue ignoring him, at least until his temper had cooled off a little bit.

Unfortunately, fate conspired against him. Ten minutes into the ride, the battery on his Ipod died. He’d forgotten to charge it last night. Dammit.

He didn’t remove his headphones, hoping that Sock wouldn’t notice that there was no longer music coming out of them.

Sock leaned forward into his line of sight and sucked his cheeks in with a _‘really?’_ sort of expression, raising one eyebrow.

Jonathan scowled at him, glad that he was alone in the rear of the bus, and let his headphones dangle around his neck.

Sock’s smile returned. “Ignoring it won’t make it go away, you know?”

Jonathan huffed air through his nose. “I know ignoring you doesn’t work, dammit,” he muttered under his breath. “If it did, I would have been rid of you the first week.”

Sock leaned in far too close. “Who said anything about ignoring me?” He wheedled softly, green eyes glowing in the late-afternoon sunlight. “You can ignore me, but you can’t pretend it never happened. I know. It’ll nag at you, nibble on the edges of your thoughts until you _have_ to think about it; have to ponder what it means...”

Jonathan knew he was going bright red again. “Shut up!” he hissed.

Sock’s smile was teasing. “But, why...? You know it’s the truth. It’ll keep bugging you...”

Jonathan shot him a glare. “You’re the only thing bugging me!”

Sock laughed. “Don’t lie, I know it’ll keep nagging you...” he said cheerily.

Jonathan snarled, his embarrassment sparking his ire. “It will not keep nagging me!” he exploded, unthinking, one hand shooting out to grab Sock’s scarf and haul the demon even closer. “You are going about this all wrong, idiot. I’m bi, so it’s not like that’s going to fucking bug me. What does bug me is you doing it in public.”

Sock hesitated and Jonathan could tell that he’d actually succeeded in surprising the little menace. “Wait— what?”

Jonathan scowled. “I don’t care if you make me look nuts, ‘cause frankly, I don’t give two shits about what people think of me.”

“Ooo-kaay—” Sock drug the word out, expression baffled. “So if you don’t care; why is what I did in class earlier bugging you so much?” He tugged futilely at the scarf still trapped in Jonathan’s hand. “If it was’t the flirting, what’s got you so annoyed?”

“I may not care if I look nuts, but I’m not fucking kissing you in public, idiot.” Jonathan growled, hauling Sock in until their noses touched. “No one else can see you and I’m not frenching thin air in a public place... which I was about three seconds from doing in chemistry,” he rumbled darkly, lips just brushing Sock’s with his words.

Sock made a whimpering sound in his throat, brown lashes fluttering shut. “J-Jonathan—” he breathed against Jonathan’s mouth.

“Mmm?”

“A bus is a public p-place.”


	6. Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I finally did get some requests so I present the next ficlet for if-the-sheets-were-the-states on the prompt _“Can you write a first date fic where things go wrong, or just Sock/Jonathan being super awkward but it all works out? Please?”_
> 
> So I present “Awkward.” for your reading pleasure…

“Seriously?” Jonathan put his fists on his hips and glared.

The girl in front of him ducked her head and dug the toe of one sandal into the grass. She was wearing a pale green sundress that contrasted sharply with her olive skin and her purple hair was loose around her shoulders. Red flushed her cheeks under lambent green eyes that seemed to almost glow in the sunlight. “Um...”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Jonathan snapped. “Leave her alone right now!”

Lil staggered a step back, Sock emerging from her body like a corona of smoke. “But... Jonathan—”

Still glaring, Jonathan shook his head. “Don’t wanna hear it. You cannot go around possessing people, especially not my friends. I have few enough as it is, Sock.”

“She agreed to it!” Sock protested, folding his arms, fingers clutching his biceps. He looked defensive and sullen, lips pursed in a pout, but big green eyes frightened and sad. “You can ask her!”

Lil shook her head. “Fuck, that was weird.” She glowered down at the sundress she was wearing. “Okay, permission was _not_ given for you to raid my closet. Seriously?” She glared at Sock. “I only said I would let you borrow my body, not play dress-up!”

Sock hunched his shoulders under the scolding.

Jonathan turned his ire on Lil. “Why would you let him do that? Don’t you know what this little maniac could do if he had a body again?”

Lil planted fists on her hips and glared daggers right back. “Oh, my god, pull your head out of your ass and pay some attention. You think I didn't think of that first? He promised me that he wouldn’t do anything.”

“And you believed him?” Jonathan retorted. “How dumb are you?”

“Alright, that does it!” Lil snarled. “C’mon, Sock. I’ll buy you some ice cream. You can taste things if you possess someone, right?”

Sock’s gaze skated sideways to Jonathan. “Um... yes?”

“Cool. Just no cherry flavored anything. That stuff is all kinds of nasty.” Lil pivoted on her heel, scowled down at the strappy sandals on her feet and proceeded to kick them off. “I’m not putting those back on till we reach pavement,” she grumbled. “Seriously, did you have to raid my closet for this?”

“I just...” Sock trailed off, turtling his head into the folds of his scarf.

Jonathan floundered for a moment, stunned by the turn of events.”Wait— _what?”_

Lil turned back to fix him with a scathing look. “Just how dumb are _you?_ I agreed to this because you’re as thick as a brick wall and twice as dense. Fuck, he’s been with you for how long? It took me two days to piece together that Jojo doesn’t eat.” She flipped her hair back over her shoulder with an annoyed hand. “Seriously, Sock, did you have to leave my hair down? There _is_ a reason I wear it up, after all.”

“Sorry.”

Jonathan deflated. “What? He messes with my food all the time.” He felt like he was trailing three steps behind this conversation.

“I’m dead. I don’t eat anymore. I only mess with your food to annoy you.” Sock admitted.

Lil skewered Jonathan with a glare. “I agreed to help him when he told me you wanted to take him on a picnic. Let him enjoy the food, at least. Not that you were going to do anything else, right?”

Jonathan turned red and made a strangled sound. “Lil!”

Lil’s anger vanished and she threw her head back with a laugh. “What? Jojo and I figured it out. I’d’ve thought you’d have gotten that part right, at least!”

“Can we not talk about this?” Jonathan glowered, cheeks burning crimson. “I knew this was a bad idea. Forget it.” He turned back to the blanket he’d laid out on the grass.

Sock made a soft sound behind him. “J-Jonathan...”

Lil’s hand caught his shoulder and she turned him back to face her. “It wasn’t a stupid idea, just a little flawed in execution. Look, I agreed to help him and I will, even if it’s just knocking some sense into you both. I’ll stay, so he can enjoy the picnic with you. But I swear, after that, you are on your own. I like you, Jonathan, but not like that!”

She laughed loudly and turned to offer her hand to Sock.

Grinning, Sock took her offer, melting back into her form. “Yes!” The voice that emerged from Lil’s lips was still her own but higher in pitch and bearing Sock’s infectious enthusiasm. “Let’s do this!”

Jonathan was still mortally embarrassed, but accepted Lil’s hand that Sock stretched out to him, letting himself be led back to the blanket and cooler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Lil… I swear this was NOT what I intended when I started this ficlet, but Lil stepped up to the plate and said, “Pffft, those two are hopeless without help.” So somehow she turned into sass-matchmaker, and took everything into her own hands.


	7. Dessert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sabbathghost requested Can you write a Sockathan Drabble that’s just pure fluffiness? Also Human AU.
> 
> I didn’t know enough about your headcanon/RP to guess about Sock becoming human again, so I went with my own imaginings, so sorry if it doesn’t fit with what you imagined.

Sock frowned at the pot on the counter. It hadn’t been all that long that he’d been human again; able to breathe, feel, _eat_ , but what was in the pan didn’t look appetizing at _all._ “Jonathan, I’m really not to sure about this. I mean, is it supposed to be that many colors?”

Jonathan looked up from where he was turning on the oven. There was something kinda brownish streaked on one cheek, but he seemed oblivious to it. “What do you mean? It looks perfectly fine. It’ll look even better once it’s cooked.”

Sock frowned doubtfully again. “I’m not sure cooking will improve it that much.”

Jonathan pursed his lips. “Hey, I know what I’m doing. I’ve made this before. It’s my mom’s recipe and she’s a very good cook. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

Sock shot another dubious glance at— why were there purple bits in it?— whatever it was. “Do I have to?” he whined.

Jonathan snorted. “You don’t wanna eat my cooking, you don’t have to eat at all, y’know?”

Sock stared dubiously at the glop Jonathan was spooning into the bottom of a glass baking dish. “I’d be more inclined to eat it if I didn’t think you were trying to kill me... again.”

Jonathan’s frown pulled his lips to one side, and he shot a glare at Sock. “I never killed you and I’m not about to start trying. I’m trying to fix dinner here. Why don’t you go decide what movie you wanna watch... just nothing too gory while we’re eating.”

Sock huffed, watching Jonathan sprinkle cheese over the goop. When he started spreading mashed potatoes over the top, Sock decided discretion was the better part of valor and fled to the living room to select a movie. “Hey Jonathan, do we have that series about the girl who got zombified and started working in the morgue?” He called back, pawing through a stack of movies Jonathan had purchased recently.

“Uhh, _‘I, Zombie?’_ Yeah, I think we have the first season, check the bookcase. You sure that’s what you wanna watch while eating, though?”

“The first season isn’t so bad... little bit of brain eating, a few autopsies, nothing major...” Sock rebutted, moving over to the bookcase. “Besides, maybe it’ll distract me from whatever that monstrosity is you’re making,” he finished under his breath, finding the case and pulling it down.

“Whatever.” Jonathan emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish-towel. “Should be ready in about twenty minutes. And we can have those brownies we made earlier for dessert.”

Sock smiled, feeling the curious tickle in his stomach he'd long since learned to associate with Jonathan’s attempts to be nice; those moments when everything he’d gone through, everything Jonathan had suffered, was worth it. A warm feeling crawled up his throat, spreading over his cheeks. Plus, making those brownies had been... interesting. The red in his cheeks increased, remembering chocolate flavored kisses and warm hands.

Jonathan picked up the remote and flicked the television on, turning it to the right input for the blu ray player. “Go ahead and set it up. I’ll keep an eye on dinner and have everything ready to make plates.”

He leaned over and brushed his lips over Sock’s cheek. “I’ll grab drinks, what did you want? Soda? Coffee? Tea?”

Sock wanted to lean into the touch but Jonathan was already halfway back to the kitchen. “Uh, root beer if there are any cold, Otherwise, just tea.”

“I think there’s still a couple from the last time Lil came over. I don’t think she finished all of them.” Jonathan added, vanishing into the kitchen.

A few minute later, with the first episode queued up to play, Jonathan emerged from the kitchen, two plates balanced in one hand and two cans of soda in the other. He set both plates on the coffee table and dropped the sodas onto a pair of coasters Lil had given them as a housewarming present when they’d rented the tiny apartment.

He flopped on the couch next to Sock and shoved a plate into his hands, taking the remote and hitting play.

Sock squinted at it, consideringly. It did look a fair bit better than it had before baking, cheese melted and gooey and a little browned over the potatoes, and the brown glop had turned into a thick gravy over bits of meat and— he poked one with his fork— vegetables. “What did you say this was again?”

Jonathan leaned back with his plate in one hand and tugged Sock close to his side. “Shepherd's pie. It’s good.” He took a hefty bite. “You don’t like it, I’ll eat it for you.”

Sock wrinkled his nose at Jonathan but took up a small forkful. He tentatively ferried it to his mouth. His eyes widened and he took a second and much larger bite. “This is awesome!” he mumbled around his mouthful.

“Told you,” Jonathan answered smugly. “Now eat and watch the show.”

Sock tucked his feet up and leaned into Jonathan’s side, eating happily, most of his concentration on the television and the delicious food.

He wound up eating his own plateful and more than half of Jonathan’s before realizing he was almost uncomfortably full. “Ooff, I think I ate too much...” he complained.

Jonathan’s look was full of wry amusement. “Heh. For someone who thought it looked gross, you sure put it away. Did you think to save room for dessert?”

 _Aww, he'd forgotten about the brownies._ Sock pressed his lips together in a pout. “And I was looking forward to dessert.”

Jonathan shifted in his seat, tugging Sock up for a long, breath-stealing kiss.

Dazed, Sock could only pant helplessly against Jonathan’s mouth when Jonathan pulled his lips away. “We’ll call that dessert for now. The brownies can be a midnight snack.”

In all honesty, Sock couldn’t think of a dessert he’d enjoyed more.


	8. Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is for sad-wiener on the prompt of _sock waking up jon in different ways (could range from him being a nuisance until jon grumpily gets up or being gentle and somewhat cute, like giving him lil kisses till he wakes up)_

Jonathan could track the progress of his and Sock’s ‘relationship’ through the varied ways Sock had woken him. Once Sock figured out that there was no actual limit on when he could or couldn't manifest in Jonathan’s house, he’d taken to showing up every morning, waking Jonathan before his alarm went off.

His first approach had been the simplest, Sock shouting “Wake up!” loudly in Jonathan’s ear, startling the teen into flailing desperately at the perceived attack and winding up on the floor with a bruise on his ass and a bigger one on his ego. Sock had spent the entire day imitating his wild flail and laughing hysterically.

Sock had been back the next morning, again, an hour before his alarm was set to go off, this time whispering softly in Jonathan’s ear until Jonathan had struck out ineffectually at him. He just continued the barely-heard whispers until Jonathan had been forced into wakefulness.

Those had stopped when Jonathan had taken to wearing earplugs to bed. He was less worried about sleeping through his alarm than he was of being driven out of his mind by his far-too-friendly demon. Who seemed determined to be his new alarm clock...

Sock had accordingly changed his plan of attack. It had taken him about a week, which he had later told Jonathan he’d spent learning how to infiltrate dreams from a _nightmare._ An actual nightmare; a demonic creature that crept into sleeper’s minds and crafted dark dreams there, or so Sock said. Jonathan wouldn’t have believed him, but he’d had the proof in Sock showing up in his half-remembered dreams and harassing him into waking up.

He found new and inventive ways to wake Jonathan, since he’d learned how to manipulate Jonathan’s dreamscape from his nightmare tutor. He could make any sort of noise he wished to wake Jonathan from sleep. The fifty trombone chorus of _“Highway to Hell”_ would long linger in Jonathan’s memory— and not in a good way.

Irritation grew and Jonathan discovered something himself. While Sock was playing around in his dreams, he was tangible to Jonathan. It had started with Sock playing a game of _‘I’m-not-touching-you’_ — harassing Jonathan to no end until he’d finally had enough and grabbed Sock’s scarf, yanking him down to eye-level. “Yeah, well, _I’m_ touching you and if you don’t want a punch in the face, you’ll shut up and let me sleep.”

That had been the first time he’d been allowed to sleep until his alarm actually went off in over two months.

It had been a pyrrhic victory, though, because Sock learned that while Jonathan could touch him in dreams, it was a two-way street and now he could touch Jonathan. Thus had started a solid month of pounce-tackles that inevitably startled him awake, each and _every_ time.

He’d gotten better at dodging, though, so Sock became more and more creative, including jump-scares that had led to Jonathan waking up on the floor with bruises. 

It wasn’t until, furious with Sock’s annoyance during the previous day, which included more attempts to get Jonathan to stick things in the spooky-hole and posing provocatively on the teacher's desk during chemistry, that something new came into play.

Hot, bothered and irritated, Jonathan had caught Sock during one of those dream pounces and proceeded to kiss the breath right out of both of them. Well, technically, Sock didn’t need to breathe anymore, but that didn’t stop him from panting breathlessly when Jonathan had released him.

Thus started a whole new level to things. Sock upped his game, using Jonathan’s growing attraction to his own advantage, waking the teen with dreams that left him with a bad case of blue balls.

Of course, that didn't last all that long, because the dreams were affecting Sock too. And when the ability to touch began to carry over into the waking world, discovered by an accidental touch one afternoon, things got more complicated. It wasn’t every demon who started a love affair with the human they were assigned to drive into death, after all.

But by far, Jonathan’s preferred method of being woken was with a warm body cuddled against his and rows of butterfly-light kisses being showered on his face, from jaw to hairline and everything in between.

It became a reason to look forward to waking up.


	9. Ghosting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time for thodox on the prompt “For the prompt, could you do a fic for wthkinkmeme’s prompt #1100? the one with Jonathan as a ghost!” (Jonathan kills himself but since he didn't do anything wrong in his life, Mephi and Providence are at odds again with who gets custody. In the meantime, Jonathan is stuck on Earth as a ghost. Sock visits him occasionally and they develop romantic feelings for each other.)
> 
> It ran a little long because my brain got caught up on the concept of exactly how things would go to cause such a… custody battle. I may not have gone into the part about the two of them falling in love, but I think I might write that at a later date. Usual warnings need apply, death, suicide and all that jazz; so don’t click if those things trigger anything.

The first thing he remembered was pain. Pain and blood and _damn, why had it hurt so bad?_ He’d felt the life ebbing out of his body, broken beyond repair. Panic filled him, but he couldn’t move.

Gentle hands drew him out of the fog of anguished memories, brushing over his forehead and cheeks, cool against his skin. “It’s okay now, Jonathan. You did fine.”

Did he? He couldn’t remember why or what it was he had done ‘fine’ at. He tried to ask, but all he could hear was a garbled croak.

“I don’t remember anything like this. Is he alright?” The hand was still smoothing over his forehead, but he somehow knew the speaker's attention was no longer on him.

“Different methods of death, kiddo. You died slowly, bleeding out, all the while knowing what you had done and why. Sure, he invited death, but when it came it was sudden and filled with fear and pain. He’ll get his head sorted out soon.”

He didn’t know the second voice, smooth and accented, but the first— Wait... death? Was he dead?

Memories trickled in around the edges, seeping through the cracks of his mind. A name... Sock? Was that right? But somehow he knew the first voice belonged to that name.

“It might be called passive suicide, kid, but there’s nothing truly passive about death.”

The trickle of memory was becoming a stream, bringing back images of a face to go with the name and voice, broad-cheeked and grinning, eyes sparkling beneath wild bangs and a ridiculous hat. He tried to open his eyes, to match voice, face and memory together. 

“Shhh.” The soothing hand slipped down over his eyelids. “It’s okay,” the voice he knew belonged to Sock crooned. “Relax and get your head all sorted out.” Then; in a much quieter, fiercer tone. “Can we please move somewhere else? I don’t want this to be the first thing he sees when he does get himself figured out. I came back i—”

“In hell, yes. But here’s where we run into a bit of a gray area.”

“What? What do you mean a gray area?”

“It means _She’s_ playing games with me.” Bitterness tinged the second, unfamiliar voice. There came a sound that some sluggish neuron identified as papers rustling together. “Because his death could still— technically— be termed an accident and otherwise, his record is _clean... Bah!_ —She’s claiming he belongs to her. That’s what’s keeping him tied here, to the mortal world, and not in hell where he belongs.”

The stream became a flood, and it felt like it lit a fire in every corner of his sluggish mind. A car, the screech of tires that had even made it past the music blaring through his headphones... _Pain like he’d never felt before!_ He could hear the wail of sirens, the panicked babble of voices— and he struggled to force his body to respond.

The gentle hand tightened over his eyes. “Please!”

The eerie scream of sirens was replaced by the rustle of wind through leaves and a somber silence.

“Why here?” Sock’s tone was accusatory.

“I didn’t pick it, kid. You did.”

“I wouldn’t pick this place...” Sock’s voice began angry but wavered into uncertain silence.

“You did once. Proof’s right over thataway.”

Sock made a little anguished sound. His hand had gone limp, falling away from where it had rested.

For the first time since his memories of pain, Jonathan was sure of himself. He knew; remembered what had happened. He dragged his eyes open, looking up into a familiar face, even if the expression on it wasn’t one he’d ever seen Sock wear, a mix of despair, aching loneliness and fear.

Pressing his lips together, Jonathan struggled to force a body reluctant to respond to speak. “Sock.” His own voice startled him, a sort of hollow vibration in the tone, with an odd sound like there was a split-second echo that lagged just enough to make his voice reverberate.

Sock looked down at him and brightened. “Jonathan!”

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” It was an utterly rhetorical question, because the sensation of his own death was still there, crawling like an itch under the skin he no longer had.

“Yep.” The voice that answered him wasn’t Sock’s and Jonathan turned his head to regard the source. A lanky, skinny dude in a weird suit, with flaming orange-red hair in what was possibly the oddest style Jonathan had ever seen, nodded at him, pausing to idly examine his fingernails. 

“And that being said, I have paperwork to handle to get your soul where it properly belongs, in hell. I’d tell you to stick around, kid, but there’s not much point. Until this is straightened out, you’re not going anywhere.” He looked disgruntled. “I swear, if She doesn’t stop sticking her nose into my business... This is not a custody battle!” He raged at no one in particular. “Sowachowski, take a few days off while I straighten this mess out. I’ll have your new assignment... soonish.” He faded into the quiet air.

Jonathan turned his attention back to Sock. “What just happened?” He tried to ignore the strange sound of his voice. It took him a moment to realize he was lying on the grass with his head in Sock’s lap and had one of Sock’s slender-fingered hands resting on his forehead

Sock frowned at the empty air where the weird guy had been. “That was my boss, Mephistopheles. He’s the one who sent me to you.” He shrugged, turning back to face Jonathan, one hand idly stroking the blond bangs out of Jonathan’s eyes. “I don’t pretend to understand everything, but from what he said, you’re stuck here until he and she fight it out over who gets your soul.”

“So what, I’m a ghost now?” Jonathan closed his eyes at the feel of Sock’s fingers on... did he even have skin now?

“I gueeessss,” Sock dragged the word out.

“Huh...” Jonathan shrugged from his prone position. “Long as I don’t have to haunt someplace, whatever.” He blinked back up at Sock. “Hey, you can touch me... that’s new!”

Sock blinked down at his hand, still idly smoothing Jonathan’s bangs. He jerked it away like he’d been burned. “Eh, heh— sorry.”

“Not a big deal. Just weird that you can touch me now.” Jonathan levered himself up and without even quite realizing how he did it, found his feet hovering a few inches off the grass— he glanced around— of the graveyard. “Where are we?”

Sock winced. “Um... the graveyard?”

“Yeah, the tombstones are kinda a dead giveaway.” Jonathan responded, sotto voce. “Is this where I’m buried then? Where’s my grave? Am I supposed to hang around it or something till those two fight it out?”

Sock fiddled with his goggles, adjusting and readjusting them mindlessly. “Um, no. You haven’t even been dead for an hour, I just didn’t want the first thing for you to see when you... uh, got your head together— to be your dead body laying on the street. This is... this is where I buried my parents... and killed myself.” Sock pointed to a twisted tree, leaves rustling faintly in the early morning breeze. “Under that tree.”

Jonathan found himself floating in that direction without even willing it. “Huh, really?”

Sock darted in front of him, spreading his arms to block the way. “No... I mean, I don’t think anybody even knew we’re here. This is a really old graveyard and hardly anybody’s buried here anymore.”

“So?” Jonathan frowned down at the demon. “What’s the big deal?”

Sock sighed. “Um, if nobody found us... my body isn’t buried...” He shrugged helplessly. “It’s not like I could bury myself after I stabbed myself, you know!”

Jonathan frowned. “Shouldn’t you see, then?”

Sock shrugged. “What does it matter? I’m a demon now. My body— that’s just dead flesh; a suit of skin I can never wear again.”

“But...”Jonathan made to protest, but Sock cut him off by floating closer and placing a hand over Jonathan’s lips.

“No buts. It’s not important, really.” Sock dropped his hand and grabbed Jonathan’s wrist. “C’mon. I wanna show you where I lived!” Like flipping a switch, Sock was back to the hyper demon who had plagued Jonathan for close to a year. “It’s this really cool old house. My dad said it was supposed to be the site of a murder, but I never found anything. Hey, do you think that now we’re dead, we can see the ghosts?”

Jonathan sighed but turned his hand over and laced his fingers through Sock’s. “Who knows? Don’t suppose it can do any harm to look, though.”

Sock’s grin was blinding and Jonathan thought that this wasn’t all that bad, even if he was stuck in the middle of some giant cosmic custody battle. At least he had Sock for company, and besides, it didn’t matter who won, not so long as Jonathan himself had something to say about it.


	10. Candy Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I finally have the last of my 1,000 followers ficlets up and ready to go. This one is for the lovely jezebelmorgan on the prompt of “Skittles.”

Jonathan watched the single green Skittle scoot fitfully over the surface of the table. It was slow-going and moved more in fits and jerks than sliding, but it _was_ moving.

Sock was bent over the table, brow furrowed in concentration. The tip of his tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth, and all his attention was on the single piece of candy that he was trying to slide across the table with one finger.

His fingertip went through the candy again and Sock hissed in frustration. He pushed again and this time managed to squash the Skittle flat against the wooden surface.

Jonathan popped a couple of yellow Skittles in his mouth and yawned. “You’re trying too hard again.” He’d been watching this same show for about an hour now, Sock managing to keep his concentration enough to move the candy a bit and then getting distracted or frustrated and losing focus so that his hand went right through the candy again. Sometimes when he got irritated, he tried too hard and, _well,_ the small pile of flattened candies were testament to what happened then.

Jonathan pried the smashed Skittle up and added it to the pile, spinning a grape one across the table to stop in front of Sock. He still had half a bag left and a frustrated demon to keep distracted. And he was giving Sock the flavors he wasn’t all that fond of to destroy in his attempts to move things, so win-win as far as he was concerned. Popping a red candy in his mouth, Jonathan leaned back in his chair to watch another round of Sock versus Skittles. Thus far, the candy was winning by a landslide.

Sock bit his lip and flicked the candy disconsolately. It spun just a little, but stopped quickly. “Mephistopheles said with enough will and concentration, I could move things. but I’ve been trying for _daaaayyyyyyysss_ and I still can’t do it right!” Sock flopped over the table in full drama queen mode, blinking pitifully up at Jonathan. His big green eyes were damp and full of frustrated disappointment. 

“If I recall, the exact words you said he used were _’interact with things in the living world,’_ right?” Jonathan prodded, flicking a second grape Skittle over in front of the pouting demon. “It seems to me, you are _interacting_ with things, just not in the way you intended.”

Sock’s pitiful sprawl ended, his shoulders hunched and fists clenched. He glowered up at Jonathan. “Not helping!”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “I’m the one supplying the candy for your ill-conceived attempts to move things, and it’s not even a candy I like, so, yes, I am helping.”

“Wait...” Sock sat up, blinking. “You don’t like Skittles? So why did you buy them, then?”

Jonathan twisted the bag closed and shoved it off to one side. “Because a certain demon wouldn’t leave me alone until I bought a bag. You wanted Skittles to practice with, though I have no idea why. They taste fake, nothing but sugar and flavors that taste nothing like what they’re supposed to be! I’ve yet to meet a grape that actually tastes like that and don’t get me started on the lack of actual lime in the so-called lime ones.” Jonathan huffed. “At least it’s not a good candy you’re demolishing with your attempts to move things.”

Sock puffed his cheeks out in a pout. “I _like_ Skittles!” he retorted. “They were my favorite candy before—”

Jonathan closed his mouth on the first thing that came to his lips. Sock didn’t need any reminders he was dead. There were enough of them in every moment of every day, in every thing he couldn’t touch, in foods he could no longer eat, in simple pleasures denied him by death’s hand. Sometimes, Jonathan forgot, but Sock never could.

Sighing, he reached out and covered Sock’s hand with his own. When he initiated the touch, it seemed to make it easier for Sock. Not that Jonathan touched him often or anything, but he had noticed that a playful shove had more weight behind it when he’d been the first one to elbow Sock.

Sock’s hand twitched under his and Jonathan guided it to the pair of grape Skittles on the table. Moving Sock’s fingers, he sent the first candy sliding smoothly across the table before taking his hand away. “Now. Try again.”

Sock couldn’t seem to lift his eyes off the lone candy still in front of him and slowly reached for it. One push and the candy glided smoothly in front of his fingertip.

Sock looked up, his face brightening in a wide smile. “How...? You—”

Jonathan felt the corner of his mouth quirk up. “Maybe _you_ just needed a little push.”

Sock made a half-strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeak and Jonathan suddenly found himself with a lap full of surprisingly solid demon. He opened his mouth to protest the way Sock was squirming in his lap and his brain suddenly decided to shut off—

Because there were lips on his; warm, decidedly firm and very real lips.

Sock’s tongue teased at the corner of his mouth before delving past Jonathan’s slack lips to curl against his own, teasingly.

Jonathan found he really didn't mind a lapful of excited demon that much, not if he was going to keep kissing him like that.

On the heels of that thought, Sock pulled away, just a little, wrapping his skinny arms around Jonathan’s neck. His green eyes were slitted, cat-like, and almost glowing with excitement. “You taste like candy,” Sock purred. “I can taste the Skittles when I kiss you. It’s the first thing I’ve been able to taste since I became a demon.”

Jonathan managed an inarticulate sound before Sock dived in for a second kiss, this one far more daring than the first. After a long moment, Sock pulled back, licking his lips and smiling at Jonathan with something predatory in his eyes. “Now I’ll have to get you to eat the other flavors of Skittles, so I can taste them all on your tongue.”

Jonathan swallowed around a throat gone suddenly dry. “N-new way to taste the rainbow...” he breathed, but didn’t protest Sock coming in for a third kiss.

Suddenly Skittles didn’t seem like such a bad thing, after all.


End file.
